House Guest
by Simon920
Summary: Fourteen year old Robin (Dick Grayson) is taken ill while working on a case, forcing him to stay with Linda Danver's family--anyone remember her?


Title: House Guest

Author: Simon

Pairing: Robin (Dick Grayson)

Rating: PG

Summary: Robin takes ill while working with a friend.

Warnings: none

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

This fic is an example of me dating myself. Way back in the early sixties or so Linda Lee, AKA Kara Zor-el, first cousin of Kal-el, AKA Superman was adopted by Fred and Edna Danvers after her real parents were killed when Argo City died off from radiation sickness and hence became Linda Danvers. She also had this boyfriend; Dick Malverne who I suspect was modeled on a Ken doll. Really. I actually remember all this in the original like forty years ago.

Anyway, I thought it would be fun and sort of make sense if she and Robin were friends back then and maybe hung out occasionally. In this story she's maybe fifteen or so and Robin is fourteen. And they're just friends—honest.

**House Guest**

"You're going to be late for school if you don't hurry, dear."

"I know, I'll get there on time—I always do."

"Did anything happen last night—I mean, were there any problems? You know how I worry when you're not back and it was almost dawn…"

"Everything's fine." She grabbed her backpack; the bus was coming down the street. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, but…" The bus' horn blew, blocking out whatever she was about to say.

"I couldn't hear you, what was that?"

"I said that…" But the words were lost as the girl ran down the path. Whatever it was, she'd hear later if it were important. Sitting down to sip her coffee and look through the paper, she smiled as her husband walked in, kissing her cheek.

"Who's that in the guestroom? Friend of Linda's?" Fred wasn't usually chatty in the morning and the question surprised her.

There was someone in the spare room? Alright, obviously that was what Linda was trying to tell her a minute ago. Well, these things happen. "I've no idea. Whom does it look like?"

"No one I know. He must be one of her strays."

"Did she say anything about him?"

"I think that she tried, but she was running late and then the bus got here…I know, I'll talk to her about it when she gets home."

Good Lord, not another. This happened too often and, kind hearted as the girl was, this really had to stop. Really. They heard the water start running upstairs, whoever it was apparently felt the need for a shower and would probably make an appearance soon.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later a young man, maybe fifteen, sixteen or so and wearing worn jeans, an old tee shirt with Gotham Knights half faded across his surprisingly well defined chest, walked into the kitchen and smiled a bit tentatively. Luckily it was a warm day for early winter. His straight black hair was damp to the point of still dripping and his feet were bare. The most striking thing about him, though, other than his being an exceptionally good looking and well built youngster, were his piercingly blue eyes—the color a cross somewhere between sky blue and cornflower. They were really beautiful despite the dark circles under them and it was apparent that he could have used a few more hours in bed.

"Um, hi. I'm really sorry to bother you like this, but thanks for letting me crash here last night." He sniffed a bit and coughed—it sounded deep and rasping. It took him a few moments to get his breath. The adults exchanged a look but said nothing.

"I take it you and Linda are friends?" He nodded as he sat himself at one of the empty chairs around the smallish kitchen table, wiping his mouth with his hand. The woman exchanged a look with her husband; the boy certainly made himself at home, at any rate.

Another look passed between the adults as she handed the stranger a glass of orange juice. "I'm Edna Danvers and this is my husband, Fred. And you are…?"

He looked up at her, seeming to make an effort to focus, sniffed again and paused. "Oh, sorry…most people call me Robin." He saw the blank looks, but wasn't surprised. He was a long way from Gotham. "Kara and I were working together last night and it got really late, so instead of my going all the way home, she said I could just sleep here. I hope that's okay." He gave them a small and somewhat hopeful smile.

The only people who called their daughter 'Kara' were people from the superhero community. And this boy just said they'd been working together. Of course… "Robin, as in…?"

"As in Batman and…Uh-huh." He saw the expressions on their faces, feeling too sick to care right now. "I'm sorry to just sort of butt in like this, but Kara kind of insisted—I mean, it was nice that she did and all, I could have just gone home, but when she found out that no one's there right now she sort of freaked and kind of insisted that I stay here instead of going back to an empty house, so...you know…" He shrugged a little, awkward. "I'll be going in a couple of minutes. I don't like intruding or anything. Really." He looked at the OJ, sipping just a little and putting it down and Edna saw that he seemed flushed, and not just from the hot shower. He was trying to stifle another deep cough and not succeeding too well.

"Are you supposed to be in school today? You do go to school, don't you?"

"Oh, sure I do, but we were working on this case together and didn't notice that it was dawn until the sun was coming up and I don't have any important classes until almost ten so Kara said she'd cut study hall and give me a lift back—or call Kal so he could do it."

In the three years since they'd adopted their daughter, found out her heritage and her family tree, this was the first time the Danvers had met anyone from the 'community' other than Linda's—Kara's—cousin and they'd only met him twice. He'd been quite nice both times, but he'd been a bit intimidating and now to have Robin show up at their breakfast table, obviously exhausted and sick and to talk about it all so casually took some getting used to. Somehow having Linda living with them and seeming so average most of the time, they had managed to separate the different parts of her life so that they could almost forget the…exotic parts. And this boy seemed so, well, he just seemed so normal sitting here.

"Doesn't, ahem, Batman worry when you don't come home at night? You can't be more than sixteen. I'd think that he'd be worried sick…"

Robin managed to almost hide his smile. "Thanks, but I'll be fifteen in a few months and yeah, if he knew I wasn't home he'd be pretty mad." A flash of a grin, quickly extinguished. "Luckily for me, he's in Japan this week, so I'm in the clear. Besides, he pretty much trusts me. Mostly."

Another exchange of glances from the Danvers. Maybe the man was his father, but surely the child had a mother as well. "What would you like to eat—Robin? Bacon and eggs alright?"

"I'm not really hungry, thanks. Maybe just some tea, if it's not a lot of trouble?"

That was all it took—a teenager not wanting food? Edna reached across the table; startling him by feeling his forehead then moved her hand back to his neck. "You're burning up. Now, I want you to go right back upstairs and get back in that bed."

The boy just stared for a moment, seemingly trying to keep a straight face. "I'm fine. I'll just get home and—I'll sleep there. I'll be okay. I mean, I've just got a cold or something. Honest, it's nothing." Another coughing fit gave lie to what he'd just said.

He had goose bumps on his bare arms from chills and seemed to be shivering a little. "And you just said that no one's there. You're not going back to wherever you live if there isn't anyone to look after you." She stopped his protest with an Alfred worthy look. "You're fourteen years old, no matter who you are, and since Linda brought you back here, you're our responsibility and that's all there is to it. Fred?"

"I'm afraid that Edna has you over ruled on this one, at least until we hear from your parents. Maybe if you weren't sick it would be different, but as it is...I agree, I think you should go back upstairs. Maybe we could make a call for you, let your parents know you're here—Robin?" The name almost stuck in his mouth. In fact he was thinking how bizarre it was to have this boy nonchalantly sitting at his kitchen table and blowing his nose on a paper napkin. He'd read an article about this kid in Newsweek just a few days ago. According to the article, despite his age, he was probably one of the smartest vigilantes working now and it went on to say that his future was unlimited, even if he decided to get out of the business. His talents were apparent to anyone who bothered to give it half a thought. The reporter had said that he had no idea what the boy wanted to do in his life, but from what he'd seen, Robin could write his own ticket no matter what his age was.

And to have him sitting here at the kitchen table at this hour of the morning was, well—it was going to take some getting used to.

But being stuck here wasn't what Dick wanted to hear. Of course he knew he was sick and all he wanted to do was go home to his own room and tune out the world until he felt better because he felt pretty awful right now The shower hadn't helped much and he knew that if he ate anything it would reappear fast. He just wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed. "I've been on my own—well, pretty much, since I was like eight years old and…"

"And as soon as we hear from, from—well, from whoever normally looks after you, I'll agree with that, but right now you're a sick young man who shouldn't be traveling, no matter what the method is." Fred stood up. "If you two will excuse me, I have to be getting to the office, but, Edna, you call me if you need help, alright? In fact, I'll call you to check in a bit. Robin, you, well, you feel better and listen to Mrs. Danvers. You hear me?"

Alfred's lessons came to the fore. "…Yes, sir."

"If you need anything. I'll come right home, alright?" He kissed her cheek, glancing at their houseguest as he left. This was not starting out to be a relaxing day.

Jeez. All he wanted was to be left alone, not stuck in a house with strangers, no matter how well meaning they may be. "I'm not that sick—really, it's just a cold or the flu or something. What if I call Kal? He knows I'm okay by myself—if he'll agree to get me home, would that be alright?" He started shivering with chills, a fact that didn't get past Edna.

"Are you sure your parents aren't home? Maybe if I called…?" The boy suddenly went about three shades paler as he sat there, overcome with a fresh wave of fever and chills. "Now I want you to go upstairs. Do you need help to get there?"

He shook his head 'no' and bolted from the room. Moments later she heard the sound of retching from the downstairs bathroom. The boy wasn't going anywhere until he was better, no matter whom he was. Taking him a glass of cool water, she found him just coming shakily out of the bathroom, pale and trembling and wiping his mouth.

"Did you two do anything last night that might have made you this sick?" They could have been anywhere, doing anything but he weakly shook his head. With an arm around his waist, she helped him up to the guestroom and got him back onto the bed, a blanket over him, glass of water on the nightstand. After taking his tempreture and giving him some aspirin she debated about calling their family doctor, then deciding to wait until after lunch. He was almost certainly right and it likely was just a bad cold or a touch of the flu. The best thing for him would be rest. Of course she'd keep an eye on him, but he was young and strong—he'd be fine. "Would you like to call anyone, let them know that you're here?"

He shook his head, eyes closed. "…I guess that I should call school or they'll think I'm cutting." After he made the call he lay back down. "Mrs. Danvers? I'm sorry that I'm being a problem. I really can just go home."

"Don't be silly. You're not a problem at all and you're going to stay right here. Now get some rest." She went back down stairs, leaving the door open in case he called her. As she cleaned up the kitchen she thought again about the turn their lives had taken since they'd brought Linda—Kara into their home. Thrilled to finally have a daughter of their own, they'd had no concept of the ways their family would change.

Kal, as they had come to think of him, was a nice man; kind and polite and unfailingly considerate about their privacy and feelings. His concern for the girl was plain though he made a point of leaving them alone unless called. They knew that Linda went out with some of the superheroes and that they often were involved in dangerous things but somehow that side of her life could be mostly kept at arms length—unless someone showed up in their guest room.

This young man, this Robin—he was famous. He might be little more than a child, but he was one of the top detectives in the world and she'd even read that he was quite a good athlete; certainly he had the body for it. How on earth could that boy's parents allow him to go out and face criminals night after night? The danger he was put in didn't bear thinking about for any conscientious parent. That was something she simply couldn't understand, she just couldn't. If he were her son…well, he'd spend his nights doing homework, not out til dawn doing God knew what and then coming in sick.

And he hadn't called his parents, she was sure of it. That just wasn't right. He certainly seemed like a nice enough boy, but that lapse told her that there was something wrong at home; hadn't the boy said he'd been on his own since he was eight? No child of hers would have to rely on the kindness of strangers when he was sick and that was for sure. He'd said no one was home—what did that mean? Did both of his parents work? Fine, but even so they had to come home eventually. Even if his father was on some kind of business trip, someone must be making his dinner and seeing to it that he got to school. They had to.

She knew that Linda was fond of him. One day when they were talking she had even jokingly called him her little brother. She would go on about how smart he was and how sweet and how he was going to grow up to be a heart breaker. There had even been the time she had started to tell Edna about the poor things' home life, hinting that there were some serious problems there, but stopping herself before she had gone into much detail.

This was the other side of these children. It was almost like those kids you read about who do some incredible thing when they're really young—set some sport's record or star in some big movie or become some kind of prodigy. What happened to them when they got older or when they got sick like the youngster upstairs? What happened to the crowds and the magazines then? Well, right now the poor thing needed to rest and she'd see to it that was what he got—unless his fever spiked or something.

An hour later she went up to check on the child, finding him in a restless sleep, mumbling in some kind of dream and his hair damp with sweat. He'd kicked the blanket off and was tossing, seemingly trying to find a comfortable position and wheezing with every breath.

That was enough; the boy was getting worse, not better. Going into her own bedroom, she pulled out the address book and called Stan, their family doctor. Relieved that he said he'd stop in on his way into the office in a few minutes, she was waiting when the bell rang.

"He's the son of some family friends, just staying with us for a few days while they're away and this morning when he came down to breakfast—well, you'll see." She explained as they went upstairs. "Robin, honey? This is Dr. Watson; he was good enough to stop in to check on you, is that alright?"

Barely opening his eyes, he mumbled something that might have been 'yes' and vaguely nodded. After finishing his exam, the man motioned Edna into the hallway. "That boy is on the verge of pneumonia and his fever is almost 103, in fact the only reason I'm not ordering a chest x-ray for him is because I don't want to force him out right now because that could make for even worse problems and it would only tell me what I already know. Now you can keep him here and give him the drugs I'll prescribe or he can go to the hospital, either way, he'll need to be checked by a doctor at least daily. Right now it's up to you, but he'll need a lot of rest more than anything along with the meds; and if there's a change for the worse, I expect you to call me immediately."

Good Lord, she'd known he was ill, but this was beyond the pale. What in the blue blazes was he doing out last night? He had to have felt sick then—boys, no more sense than God gave a cat. And the poor thing—the last think he'd want was to be admitted to a hospital where he didn't even know anyone. Well, "Let's keep him here if we can, Stan. He'll be more comfortable and you know he'll get more rest. I know that it's asking a lot, but would it be possible for you to stop in to make sure he's doing alright?"

"You know I don't make house calls, Edna, but I'll make an exception this once and only because I've known you since high school and you're my next door neighbor. But I'm serious—that boy is damn sick. You'll have your hands full between tending to him and getting your own rest. He needs oxygen and—well, it's not going to be easy. Think you can handle it or should I arrange a visiting nurse for you?"

"I think I'll be alright to start—but I'll let you know if I'm not."

"Fine, for now." He started out, handing her a couple of prescriptions. " You have these delivered and tell them I said to put a rush on it. I'll be back on my way home later."

An hour later the meds were in hand and the ordered amount had made it down Robin's throat and the tube from the oxygen canister was around his head and feeding into his nose, though she suspected the poor thing was barely aware that he's been roused enough to even swallow. His fever was still high, dangerously so, and she was starting to think that maybe the child should be sent to the hospital after all—and how on earth could she get a hold of the boy's family? They had to be worried sick even if he had insisted that they were all out of town or something. What sort of parents would leave a fourteen year old on his own with no contact information? Well, no parents she knew, that was for certain and she was going to call then, no matter what the boy said. She could call Kal if she had to for the number, but she really rather wouldn't. The man was polite and seemed very nice, but she had been terribly uncomfortable the times she'd met him and he, well, he was so tall and so muscular that the truth was he just plain made her uncomfortable. The house seemed too small for him.

Robin had a backpack with him; maybe there would be something in there.

Not wanting to pry but having no real choice, she looked through the various compartments finding nothing at all out of the ordinary—some clothes, his costume wadded up and wrinkled, a paperback copy of Catcher in the Rye with a school name rubber stamped inside the front cover. The bookmark was a piece of paper, looking like it had been torn off of a grocery-shopping list. On the bottom, in amazing neat cursive, was a phone number, a long one with what seemed to have at least one number torn off. Or not. Maybe it was one of those odd foreign numbers.

What could she do? Call the school and ask them to tell her Robin's home number. Unlikely. No help there. Nothing else in the pack had anything personal, nothing that would let her know where the boy lived or how to get his parents or even his real name. Linda probably knew, but she couldn't pull the girl out of school without making people suspicious and she'd rather not get her worried.

There seemed to be only one choice left. Going back to her room and picking the device that looked like a television remote from her stocking drawer, she reluctantly pushed the button Kal had said she could use in case of an emergency. Instantly she heard his voice.

"Yes?"

"Kal, I'm terribly sorry to bother you like this, but would it be possible for you to come here? I'm at home."

"Is there a problem?" She stared to talk back to the communicator before she realized that the voice was coming from behind her. Turning around she saw Superman standing in her bedroom, a calm but concerned look on his face. Before she could even start to explain he nodded and walked to the guestroom.

Robin slitted open his eyes, not trying to sit up. "…Kal? Why are you…?"

"You seem a little under the weather this morning—I'm just going to make sure you're alright—do you mind?"

" 'S'okay."

Sitting gently on the edge of the bed, he checked Robin's vitals, much like Stan had done then looked at the boy's chest intently for a moment. "You have pneumonia in your left lung and your right may be starting as well. Your fever is 103.4. How long have you been feeling badly?—and you didn't tell anyone again, did you?" The boy gave a half shrug and tried not to close his eyes as he fought drifting off again.

"They were both leaving yesterday and if they thought I was sick they would have cancelled…that would have been stupid." Instead the boy was too sick to do anything but lay in a strange bed in a house belonging to people he'd never met before.

Kal spoke over his shoulder to Edna. "How long has he been sick?"

"I'm afraid that I don't know, he came down for breakfast a couple of hours ago; we didn't even know he was here until he just appeared." She told him what she knew, the boy watching her, his expression neutral. "I didn't know how to get a hold of his parents and they really have to be told about this."

Patting Robin on the hand, he nodded and walked out to the hall. "He lives with a guardian, his parents aren't around anymore."

"Oh, dear. He just told me that no one was home, so he stayed here last night." Kal seemed angry at the news. "I think he said something about Japan, if that's any help."

Not saying anything to this woman, Kal realized Bruce was probably at that economic conference, the one a bunch of international CEO's were attending to work out some kind of trade agreements between themselves without involving the governments and Alfred evidently off somewhere as well. Just like him to leave the child on his own with a couple of phone numbers in case anything went wrong. The man should be hanged.

"Has he been seen by a doctor?" She told him about Stan. "And, forgive me, you consider this man competent?" She assured him that Stan was quite good and that she trusted him implicitly. "I agree with him that Robin shouldn't be moved unless it's unavoidable. He's able to have quiet here and care—I mean if you're willing to do it. I can get someone in here to take over, Mrs. Danvers. There's certainly no reason for you be dragged into looking after a total stranger in your own home."

"Well, to be honest, I feel like he's our guest at this point. I know he and Linda are such good friends and she's the one who brought him here in the first place, even if she didn't realize that he was getting sick. But I just don't understand; who would leave a youngster to fend for himself like this?—and he seems like a nice young man."

Kal seemed about to agree with her, but merely said an quiet "Yes, he is a nice young man, an exceptional one. I've known him since he was orphaned and I've always been impressed by him. And I like him." The affection he held for the youngster was plain.

"I really don't mind his being here and if both you and Stan seem to think that it's for the best…"

"Alright, but call me—please call me if you need anything at all. I'll stop in to make sure everything's going well and I'll see to it that his guardian knows what's going on as well." She believed him, just going by the look on his face. With another thank you for what she was doing, he left after again insisting that she should call him if she needed anything at all and with the promise that he'd be back.

Robin was stirring by now and with the talking and all, she wasn't surprised. "How are you feeling now, sweetie? Any better?" He gave her a halfhearted shrug and tried to remove the oxygen tube from around his ears and nose. It had to be annoying. "The doctor wants that to stay there for now. You seem to have a little case of pneumonia." He gave her a look that spoke volumes and it was likely just his innate good manners and feeling so badly that prevented his saying just what he thought about that.

"Kal", and Lord it sounded strange to call Superman by his first name, no matter what their connection might be, "said he'd let your guardian know that you're not feeling too well right now, so don't you worry about anything, alright? I'm sure he—it is a 'he', your guardian?—I'm sure he'll be here before you know it."

"Kal will kill him."

"Oh no, sweetie, he never kills anyone."

'He'll make an exception', went through Dick's mind, but no reason to upset the woman.

"Do you think that you'd be able to keep anything down if I brought you something light to eat?" Robin nodded and a few minutes later was half-heartedly working on some toast and tea. This time it stayed down and after about half the bowl he fell asleep again.

Around three thirty that afternoon Linda walked in carrying her school books and surprised to find that not only was Robin still there, but that he was bed ridden, under a doctor's care and her cousin had stopped by as well.

"But he seemed alright last night. Honest—I would have made him go home—I would have taken him myself if I'd thought he was sick or anything."

Edna gave her a look; she thought it was supposed to be teenaged boys who were oblivious to that sort of thing. "Do you know his guardian, Linda? Your cousin said he'd make sure whoever it is knows he's sick, but is this sort of thing normal for that poor youngster?"

"I've, well…I've met him and I know he really cares about Rob, but he's, I mean…uh, he's kinda self-absorbed. I think maybe he gets a little too busy to notice things he thinks aren't really important."

"Like this child being left to fend for himself when he's coming down with pneumonia? If that man—well, if that man shows his face here I'll tell him just what I think of that and you just see if I don't."

"Mom, I don't know if that's such a good idea." She hesitated. "His guardian is Batman."

A beat. "Well, I don't know who he thinks he is to treat a child like a stray puppy. I've half a mind to tell him just what I think of that sort of thing."

Three days passed like this. The boy would sleep, wake long enough to eat some small thing, maybe bathe, have the sheets changed then go back to sleep. Stan stopped in at least once a day, as did Kal and both seemed pleased with the progress the boy was making. The fact that he was in such superior physical condition helped quite a bit and the medications—especially something Kal brought from some doctor friend of his in Atlantis of all places, seemed to turn the tide more quickly than anyone would have thought possible. He had simply explained that they knew a lot about respiratory problems down there and were really the worldwide standard as far as that went. Stan begged for more of the pills and chest salve for possible use on other patients. Instead Kal gave the man the name and private number of the Atlan High Council and suggested that a medical and scientific exchange could be worked out, if he was interested. In fact, Kal would be happy to make the contact if Stan would feel more comfortable that way.

Stan, family practice GP, was stunned that anyone would make him the offer instead of contacting Johns Hopkins or Harvard or some such place; he would make the AMA Journal with this. "They didn't help the boy, you did."

It took three years—and would have taken years longer without the influence of both Superman and Aquaman—but the medications were approved by the FDA and available in record time. Stan Watson was given credit for initiating the research and managed to put the wheels in motion for further exchanges. He would keep a low public profile, but when the time came, he was one of the first surface professionals allowed to visit Atlantis.

As he slowly began to feel better and was more himself, Edna found that he was a curious, funny, friendly, exceptionally intelligent young man and one who liked to talk, especially with a mother figure. It made sense really, since the boy had lost his own mother years ago. He also seemed to be starved for simple affection and, with no shyness, plainly loved when she would hug him or stroke his hair for him.

"Kara stayed with us when she first got here—did she ever tell you about that? Kal didn't know what to do with her and his apartment isn't that big, so she stayed in one of the guestrooms for a couple of weeks while she sort of got her bearings a little."

"Sounds like you have a big house, Robin."

"It's not mine, but yeah, it's big. Anyway, that's when we became friends, we just sort of connected, you know? You know how you do sometimes with someone? You meet and you just kind of click? Well, anyway, we've been friends since then and when she was confused about some local custom or was down before you adopted her and she was in that orphanage, she'd call me and we'd get together and talk about things." A coughing fit stopped him and Edna helped him settle back down when he was finished catching his breath.

"If you have so much room, why didn't she just stay there? Why would—Kal send her to an orphanage?"

"Because Br—Batman hasn't got a clue about what to do with a teenaged girl." Realizing what he'd just said, the boy went bright red. "I mean, I didn't mean…God, sorry."

That was the first time they really laughed together and whatever strangeness remained between them was gone after that.

Later that afternoon, after Linda had gotten home from school, Edna was in the sewing room working on the new curtains when she heard the two youngsters talking.

"Did I tell you that Dick—my boyfriend Dick…Malverne, remember I told you about him? Anyway, he's so jealous of you."

"What is it with you and dicks?" Edna heard the sound of a slap and an 'ouch'. "Why would he be jealous of me? I only met him once and I got the impression he thought I was a jerk."

"Are you serious? He's completely jealous. You're a better athlete than he is, you're smarter, you're cuter—oh stop, you know that you are…"

"Yeah, well tell him that flat tops went out with like Dobie Gillis or something, will you? He looks like Bob Halderman, Junior."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"Anyway, he thinks we have a thing going. He was really upset."

"What did you do?"

"I told him you're my brother."

"…Because we look so much alike. Right."

"Well, he's completely intimidated by you."

"Yeah, right…God, Kar, you're so lucky, you just totally lucked out landing here, I swear."

"And you didn't? You live with like the richest man in the universe, practically."

"...But you have parents." The boy sounded so—wistful.

"But you're Robin. You're famous and everyone knows who you are—you even have fan clubs and you get all those letters from girls. That poster they're selling of you is everyplace. God, Rob, you can go anywhere, do anything, meet anyone—and you're so good at things. You're still only fourteen and you're one of the best detectives in the world and you lead the Titans—Interpol called you last month to solve a case they were stumped on and you had it solved in two days. You're amazing, Rob. I can't believe the stuff you do—and you put up with the Bat, too. No one else could do what you do. No one."

"Yeah, maybe…But you have parents, Kar."

As far as Edna was concerned, from that moment on, the boy had a surrogate set, if he wanted them.

The next afternoon she went up to get his lunch tray, the bowl of soup still almost full and the toast barely touched.

"You won't get better if you don't eat, you know."

"You sound like my mother." But he smiled as he said it.

"What was she like—Oh, my goodness, I'm sorry, dear, do you mind my asking?"

"No, it's alright. She was…" He trailed off, thinking, remembering. "She was beautiful, small and thin. When I was little I used to look a lot like her and everyone used to say that I have her face and her eyes and her coloring, but I think I have my father's build." He smiled at the memory. "She was always laughing, all the time, and she used to like to sing when she was cooking dinner but she was strong, too. She could catch me when I flew—that's what we did; we were circus flyers—aerialists. We had a trapeze act, me and my parents—we traveled all over doing that, all over the US and Europe."

"How did you live with all that traveling and moving around? You must have thought hotels were your home."

"Oh, no, we had a trailer that we'd usually drive from gig to gig. Dad had this really great Harley he strapped on the back—I still have it in storage. It was great."

"…Well, some of those trailers are almost bigger than this house, to look at them…"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, it was pretty small, just one room maybe about the size of this one, but it was great." He'd seen that look before. "Really, it's alright; I'm okay with just being trailer trash, y'know?" It was apparently an old joke he was used to. The boy wasn't any more trailer trash than he was the man in the moon.

"Does your family still have their trailer?"

He lost his smile. "They were killed in a fall when I was eight."

"…Oh, honey, I'm sorry…" Embarrassed, she should have thought, she knew they were dead.

She could see an emotional mask come down across his face. "It's alright. It was a long time ago." He reached for his tea mug, taking a sip of the now cold tea. "She was the one who nicknamed me Robin—because of my birthday. It's the first day of spring."

What a sweet thing for a mother to do. "That's not your real name, dear? No—don't tell me, I know you all have your secrets about that sort of thing."

He gave a half shrug. "Kal trusts you so I know I can, too. Besides, when you say it, you sound like her."

It was possibly the nicest compliment she'd ever receive.

They still hadn't heard from Batman, though Kal had made it clear that the man had been informed about the boy's condition and was getting daily updates. Robin didn't seem at all surprised. "He knows I'm alright and he's in the middle of something. It's okay."

"That poor child, Fred—he wasn't even surprised that he hasn't gotten so much as a phone call and Kal almost apologized for the man. I mean, my goodness! How on earth has that child turned out as well as he has with everything he's had to deal with—his parents killed and somehow becoming Robin and then being looked after, at least nominally, by that man—I mean, really! I have half a mind to just let him stay here forever."

"Now Edna, Robin seems perfectly happy with the arrangement he has and the fact that he's as well adjusted as he is tells you something right there, don't you think? I'm sure that if there were any serious problems Kal or someone would have stepped in before this."

"Well, it just isn't right—and what if he hadn't been in out guestroom when he'd gotten sick, what would he have done then? Just stayed alone and hoped that he'd feel better? I'm going to say something, you just see if I don't."

"Now, Edna…"

"Someone has to be responsible for him and…"

"That boy lives in a world we don't know anything about. You have to keep that in mind."

"He's still a sick child with no one except you and me and Kal looking after him right now—and that's just not right."

The next morning at 8:00 a.m. the phone rang. Fred answered. The accent on the other end was clipped and British.

"Mr. Danvers? Forgive my calling you without any warning like this, but I have reason to believe you have a young man staying with you? He is recovering from his illness, is he not?"

"He seems to be improving, yes."

"Thank goodness, I'd never have forgiven myself should anything happen to the lad. And I must apologize for the imposition you've had forced on you by this. I assure you, this is hardly our normal way of our doing things. Had I been aware of the situation I would have been in contact much before this and I can only offer my most sincere apologies."

"And who are you?"

"Ah, do please forgive me, Mr. Danvers. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alfred Pennyworth. I normally oversee the young master's well being, you see. Master Superman informed me that you and your wife had been extraordinarily kind in aiding the child while I fear I was called out of the country and I've only just been made aware of his illness. If I might speak with the young master…?"

The young master? Robin's life just got more and more odd, the more they learned about him.

"Just a moment, I'll see if he's awake."

"I'm awake." Robin walked into the kitchen for his breakfast in his now freshly washed jeans and a too big tee he borrowed from Fred—he really was getting better faster than he had any right to thanks to the medicine Kal had brought him from underwater.

"Phone for you; he says his name is Alfred Pennyworth—do you want to speak with him?"

Robin just smiled that big smile he had and took the receiver. "Alf? How are you? Where are you?…No, I'm much better…Really, I am…No, I was sick, but I'm doing alright and …No, really…My voice is fine, I've just been coughing the last few days…Anyway, now that you're back I can go home, right?—well, they were worried about me being alone, that's all…how was London? You have a good time?…No, there's no reason for you to come here…no, there isn't, the doctor will probably be here in a couple of hours and I'll ask him if it's alright for me to travel and then I'll call you…I will, I'll call as soon as I ask him…I promise." He replaced the receiver and turned to the table.

"Who is this Mr. Pennyworth, Robin, a friend?"

"…He's sort of my grandfather."

"That's nice—I mean that you have someone like that, dear. You're looking better this morning, think you can manage a real breakfast?"

He sat at what had become 'his' chair. "…Maybe some toast and a cup of tea, if it's not any trouble." So he was still off his feed. Seeing the looks on the faces of the adults he tried to cover, "I think it's the weird meds Kal brought from Atlantis, I think they upset my stomach."

Perhaps, but it was also clear that he'd lost weight while he'd been there and his fever was still lingering a bit, low grade, but still there. "Stan said he'd stop over on his way in to the office this morning, instead of on his way home."

"Good, maybe I can go home this afternoon then." He glanced at the startled looks on their faces. "I mean, it's just that I've been here a while now and you must be getting tired of me hanging around, that's all."

"Of course you want to go home, dear, we know that—and you haven't been any trouble at all." Edna reached across the table and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Unconsciously he leaned into the maternal caress and smiled. "And you know that you're always welcome here, honey. Any time at all.

An hour later Stan gave Robin the not quite clean bill of health that was close enough for him to at least get back to his home somewhere in or near Gotham. Kal had promised to stop by and make sure the boy would be put through a minimum of discomfort during the actual transport and would be properly taken care of—and, yes, there was now someone there who would keep a close watch on him both day and night.

He'd be fine.

With noticeable relief, he packed up what very little he had with him when he'd arrived, swaying slightly as he tossed the various bottles of meds in his back pack and with a hug and kiss to Edna's cheek and a hug for Fred, Kal carried him back to his home.

Three days later they received a hand written letter. The paper was heavy and cream colored, obviously expensive. The handwriting a young scrawl.

_**Dear Mr. and Mrs. Danvers,**_

_**Thank you for everything you did for me while I was sick. I guess I really was in too bad shape to really have been alone then and if you hadn't let me stay I think I'd probably still be pretty sick. You were both so nice in letting me stay that it made a big difference and I really appreciate all your help.**_

_**I'm sorry that Kara never told you that we've been friends for a few years now, but we get together every couple of months and she always said such nice things about you that I wanted to meet you myself. I think that may be why I let the case we were working on that first night go so late that I wouldn't be able to get home. When she told me you wouldn't mind if I slept in your guest room I thought it would be a good chance to meet you both—though it didn't turn out the way I thought it would. **_

_**I never thought I'd end up staying almost a week the way I did.**_

_**It's been so long since I've had parents around that, even though I was sick—and I'm almost all better now thanks to you and Kal and Dr. Stan—it was one of the best weeks I've had in a long time.**_

_**I've enclosed a check to pay you back for all the meds and things you had to pay for—that's not right that you should have to spend money on me and please just cash it or something. Don't send it back or anything.**_

_**Any time you want to come to Gotham to see some of the museums or shop or see a show or something, let me know because sometimes I can help out with that. I guess that one of the perks of what we do is that we get a lot of—I don't know, Batman calls it 'special treatment' and sometimes it's not a good thing, but sometimes it comes in handy and we have some guest rooms, so you wouldn't have to pay for a hotel or anything. They can get pretty expensive in the city and I owe you.**_

_**Thank you,**_

_**Robin**_

Edna showed Fred the letter when he got home from work and it simply confirmed what Kal said when the boy had first arrived; that he was an exceptional youngster. They never took him up on his offer to stay with him in Gotham, though they would discuss it now and then and would follow his career and what they could of his life through Linda for years.

Edna did write that letter to Batman telling him exactly what she thought of leaving a sick child to fend for himself and which Kal promised her he would deliver. They never directly heard back, but the next day an arrangement of four dozen long stemmed yellow roses were delivered with a card with the two words 'Thank you' hand written in a strong hand. Flowers were also delivered on her birthday and on the first day of spring with the same message and while she never completely forgave the man, she finally believed that he did care about the boy.

And they did hear from Robin again.

Without warning they would find him asleep in their guestroom once every year or two. He was always welcomed, always funny and pleasant to have around and would always help with whatever needed to be done, be it mowing the lawn or peeling potatoes. Occasionally they'd get letters from him as he got older, first telling them about high school, with veiled references to his friends—obviously the Titans—later from college, which didn't last long and then for a period when he seemed a bit lost.

A week after Linda died he'd come to see them for a few days, knowing how empty the house would seem to them. After that he was in closer touch and they were always happier when he'd call or ring the bell.

When it was announced on the nightly news that Robin had been killed they felt as though they'd lost their daughter again until they realized that this Robin was a different young man and were relieved.

One day they received a formal invitation to the graduation ceremony for the current class of the Bludhaven Police Academy with the single handwritten line on the bottom, "Who'da thought? And this is between us, right?"

It seemed a strange thing for him to do with his life, all things considered, but if that was what he wanted to do, well, then, that was fine, though Edna worried more about his police duties then she ever had about Robin.

It was clear that the relationship he had with Batman was a difficult one for years and one which caused him pain; for that Edna never forgave the other man for not giving the sweet boy she had come to know the unconditional love he so obviously needed, no matter who he might be. There were times when Robin—as she always thought of him, even after he'd abandoned the name— would sit in her kitchen and try to explain how while it was complicated and convoluted and probably dysfunctional, the two of them did love one another.

Edna even believed that was true, but she still couldn't excuse the things he'd put Robbie through. She simply couldn't.

When Fred died of a heart attack, Rob was there at the funeral, holding her hand and again staying for a few days while she went through the motions of receiving friends. He'd call after that, at least once a month and even made her take a cruise with one of her friends on his dime.

There was also a day he called, barely able to speak, upset, distraught at what had happened, but needing to tell someone and have them listen without criticism. His girlfriend, the woman he'd hoped to marry had broken it off and he didn't know what to do. He'd loved her for years and they had gotten so close; it had been going so well and then—nothing. He wanted her back, but if she didn't love him—but he knew she did, he knew it, just like he knew he loved her.

Hearing him talk was breaking her heart.

"Honey, Robin, you come here and stay with me. Will you do that? Please? I haven't seen you in over a year and we can really sit down and have a good talk—will you come?"

Later that day, just before dinner, he was at the kitchen door, the one he always used. He was taller and stronger than when he was younger; somehow he was even more handsome—mature and with the intelligence plain in his face. And his eyes were still the most beautiful blue she'd ever seen in anyone.

Crossing the kitchen he put his arms around her, hugging her, taking in the familiar and the calm and the acceptance.

"Mom…"

12/17/04

20


End file.
